


Fine is a Four Letter Word

by Providentially_Demonic



Series: Reconcile [1]
Category: Mystery Skulls (Band), Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Gen, Mystery/Arthur is best BROTP, Possession, remembering the cave, why no tags for Mystery?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7156130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Providentially_Demonic/pseuds/Providentially_Demonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t so much the loss of the toy that bothered Mystery, it was that the ball was one of his last connections with the family-that-had-been , when Arthur had not been terrified of him, when Vivi was without nightmares of things she could not remember, and Lewis had still breathed. It held vestiges of the affection that had been before, when Arthur had played with him, and all three of his humans had been full of joy and life. </p><p>Now it was terrified glances out of the corner of an eye.  It was a family that was not broken, but badly battered and barely holding itself together. It was a friend that was scared to death of him and <i>how</i> it hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine is a Four Letter Word

**Author's Note:**

> Part one of a little exploration into a headcanon arthur-tristan-kingsmen on tumblr shared with me. Poor Mystery just wants his family back together.
> 
> Comments and kudos are welcome.

Mystery flattened his ears, a snarl bubbling in his chest. The urge to transform itched under his skin, hot and unstoppable as lava. “Leave off!” he snapped sharply. “I’m fine!”

 

The look on Lewis’s face was worth it, but Vivi’s voice was even sharper than his. “Mystery! Lewis doesn’t deserve that. Now apologize, and then you are marching your fuzzy little butt into the kitchen and adding to the jar. Now, mister!”

 

Mystery canted his head to the side, ears still lowered, but now splaying out sideways a bit. He lifted one black forepaw into the air, waggling it at Vivi. “Uh, it might have escaped your notice, Vivi, but I lack opposable thumbs. No thumbs; no money.” Though annoyance still burned under his breastbone, his voice was smug. “Not going to work on me.”

 

Her blue gaze went icy enough that it even sent chills up his spine. “Oh, no, you don’t get out it that easy.” He hand shot out and clamped down on his collar, so hard he could feel it pressing against his throat. “March!”

 

He could easily have escaped her, but hurting Vivi was one of the last things he’d ever do. She   hauled him bodily over to where his things were. A stainless steel water dish (He was civilized, he ate in the kitchen like the rest of them.) a dog bed he hadn’t slept in for years and a plastic crate of dog toys. Vivi hauled him over to the crate and looked over it for a moment. A distinctly unamused grin lifted the corners of her mouth and she snatched up his tennis ball in her free hand.

 

Mystery yipped when she shoved it into his mouth. “Vivi, what—?” He managed around the fuzzy red and yellow ball muffling his words.

 

She said nothing, only marching them both back toward the kitchen, heels clacking loudly on the marble tile.

 

The “Fine” jar was placed prominently on the kitchen counter, right next to the refrigerator. Even the Deadbeats knew better to touch it. They, none of them, wanted to risk Vivi’s wrath. She’d created it after one too many, _“I’m fine; nothing to worry about”_ comments from Arthur, when it was obvious that nothing was indeed ‘fine.’ The mechanic couldn’t lie to Vivi or Lewis to save his life, relying on non-answers like that whenever they pressed him too hard for his real thoughts. Since they had resolved to be more open with each other, the jar had come into use. ‘Fine’ or any variation on ‘I’m fine’ were forbidden on pain of dropping money in the jar. Arthur contributed to it the most, though Lewis and even Vivi had been known to put a few dollars in.

 

Vivi hauled Mystery over to where it sat and scooped it up with the hand that wasn’t holding his collar, pointedly holding it right in front of his nose. “Drop it, mister.”

 

Mystery folded his ears back, whining low in his throat. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he grumbled around the ball.

 

Vivi’s mouth pressed into a thin line and she gave his collar a firm shake. “Oh, no, I’m not. The ball goes in and you, buddy, are going outside until you lose that temper and apologize for lashing out at Lewis. _Now!”_

 

Mystery recoiled at her words. He didn’t want to sacrifice his favorite ball, but he’d seldom seen Vivi this angry at him, not even when he’d revealed that he had known the truth of what happened in the cave. Reluctantly, he whined and released the ball, looking up to his erstwhile owner reproachfully. “Arthur gave me that ball.”

 

Vivi’s expression softened, but she shook her head stubbornly. “So you’ll regret it that much more. You shouldn’t have done that and you know it. We’ll be talking about this later, buddy! Outside.”

 

She released his collar and opened the kitchen door, placing a foot behind his rump to scoot him out. Growling lowly, he went out and flopped in the cool grass, glaring back at the house in reproach.

 

It wasn’t so much the loss of the toy that bothered him, it was that the ball was one of his last connections with the _family-that-had-been_ , when Arthur had not been terrified of him, when Vivi was without nightmares of things she could not remember, and Lewis had still breathed. It held vestiges of the affection that had been before, when Arthur had played with him, and all three of his humans had been full of joy and life.

 

Now it was terrified glances out of the corner of an eye.  It was a family that was not broken, but badly battered and barely holding itself together. It was a friend that was scared to death of him and _how_ it hurt.

 

The urge to transform, lost when Vivi had startled him, crawled under his skin. He hadn’t dared to while Shiromori was still trailing him, save when he’d been forced to, to keep what was left of his little family. A whine built in his throat again. Sometimes he wished he could forget as easily as Lewis had wiped Vivi’s memory. What he’d done, he still regretted. He’d known it was the only way to save his humans, but the memory of Arthur’s screams and terrified eyes haunted him.

 

He shook out his fur and in a desperate urge to escape his own thoughts, stretched out into his full form, running like Shiromori was hot on his heels again. He circled the mansion several times, to loosen muscles cramped from being confined in the guise of a small dog for so long, before taking to the brambles and thorny woods that surrounded it. Dodging roots and leaping fallen trees and taking to the upper branches when the undergrowth became too thick, allowed him to clear his mind and exhaust his body. He had been running in an entirely different manner from her, curse her twisted, rotten soul. Forced to hide so she could not trace him, burying the majority of his power beneath the inoffensive facade of a dog.

 

Unfortunately, he could only run from his own thoughts for so long. Panting in the cool air of late autumn, he slowed and at last halted. Returning to the yard of the mansion, he stretched out again in the grass, not bothering to restore his disguise. It didn’t matter, with no one except for Lewis and Vivi here. Arthur was at work, safe from the monster of his nightmares. Mystery knew he had played no small part in the nightmares that had plagued Arthur, and it was all his own fault.

 

In the cave he had sensed things too late. He’d known the malevolent spirit was near and who it was likely to target. Vivi was too powerful in her own way, adept at the little magicks she had mastered. Lewis, despite his uncertainty about his origins, was too secure in himself. Arthur, despite his near-genius level aptitude for mechanics, was too open, too aware of the spirit plane... and far, _far_ too vulnerable. By the time he’d reached Arthur, the spirit had already found a foothold in the mechanic’s mind.

 

He’d hesitated to transform and stop the possession. Both because transforming would send ripples of his essence into the aether and allow Shiromori to sense him and because it was Arthur, and to hurt a part of his chosen family was anathema. Then the spirit possessing Arthur had moved and at a speed that the lanky human could never have achieved on his own.

 

Arthur had made a tiny sound of anguish, all the control he had, and Lewis had turned, just in time to receive a sharp push to his chest. Before Mystery could blink he was gone; a quick drop to a sudden stop. Transforming, Mystery had lunged for Arthur, seeing the possessing spirit taking over, one side of his face gleefully laughing and the other frozen in a rictus of terror and tears. There was still a chance he could save the boy considering that it hadn’t claimed him completely.

 

Hating himself for the terror and anguish he would be causing Arthur, he sank his fangs into Arthur’s arm, just below the shoulder, and sent his essence questing for the corrupting spirit. He had to draw it out before it completed its takeover. He had already found the point of infiltration, the hand on the arm he held in his teeth; Arthur had unknowingly scraped it on a rock in the cave, allowing the spirit a physical entrance, thus bypassing both Arthur’s own natural defenses and the talisman Vivi had made for him. Sinking claws of his own magick into the invading spirit, Mystery pulled it back toward himself.

 

He could see the corruption fading from Arthur face and a shriek of terror and pain escaped when his vocal cords were his own again. Mystery winced and folded his ears back, hating that he was hurting a person he considered his own, but it was necessary. He pulled fiercely against the foul malevolence as Arthur’s screams tapered off into harsh, panting breaths.

 

“M-Mystery—?”

 

He nearly lost his concentration at the sound of Arthur’s anguished voice. A hand landed on his muzzle where his fangs were sunk into the mechanic’s flesh. “Mys-Mystery? It’s y-you, isn’t i-it?”

 

 _Oh, Arthur..._ He dared not nod, but he pricked his ears again and tried to convey the answer with his gaze.

 

Arthur wheezed an agonized laugh. “Knew i-it. Y-you have t-to... _aagghhh..._ st-stop it, Mystery. I-I could f-feel it in m-my h-head— it-it w-wants all of us d-dead. It w-won’t stop w-with Lewis!” Fresh tears leaked from Arthur’s eyes, and his breath hitched. “Oh, god— it made m-me kill Lew-Lewis. Stop it— stop _me—!”_

 

 _Arthur... oh, by all the gods, Arthur..._ Mystery wanted to wail in pain almost as great as Arthur’s.

 

Arthur was begging for Mystery to kill him to stop the spirit from harming Vivi or Mystery himself. Selfless and braver than he’d have ever credited him with...

 

With renewed determination, Mystery hauled on the corruption with every bit of his magicks. It fought back, clinging to its host with everything it was. He could not force it out.

 

There was one last thing he could do, one last card to play. _Forgive me, Arthur!_

 

He closed his jaws savagely, crunching through bone, ripping through muscle and ligament alike, ripping the arm away and, with it, the malevolent spirit. A last twist of his magick bound it into the severed flesh, unable to escape and claim another victim.

 

It was as agonizing for him as it was for Arthur, though he did not have the luxury of screaming.

 

Arthur wailed and thrashed, blood pumping from the mangled end of his arm. His amber eyes were open and filmed with tears, his heels digging into the rock in a futile attempt to back away. The effects of the possession were clearing, and he had felt _everything._ Whining, Mystery cast the fouled flesh into the abyss after Lewis and shifted to his more familiar form in a bid to comfort Arthur.

 

Arthur just screamed louder, renewing his struggles to escape, though he was rapidly weakening from bloodloss. His whole side was drenched in crimson and he clutched weakly at the ruined flesh of his suddenly much shorter limb. Every step Mystery took toward him only fueled Arthur’s panicked screams.

 

At last, he’d fled, unable to face the absolute terror in Arthur. _Vivi! He had to get Vivi!_

 

He found her stumbling up the path to the cliff where he’d left Arthur, blood spattered on her clothes and a blank, disturbingly detached look in her eyes. Even in this form he could smell the death magick swirling around her. It reeked of forgetfulness, an undertone of spice to the scent telling him of Lewis’s last desperate gift.

 

_“Vivi!”_

 

She blinked slowly, seemingly utterly dazed.

 

He leapt and snagged her sleeve in his teeth, wincing at the blood his muzzle smeared on her. She was covered in blood from both Arthur and Lewis and it was _all his fault_. “Vivi! Arthur is hurt! He needs you!”

 

Vivi’s eyes snapped back into focus and she was suddenly the fierce girl he adored. _“Arthur?_ Take me to him!”

 

He released her and bounded back the way he’d come, praying that they were not too late to save Arthur.

 

Arthur was fading in and out of consciousness, his skin deathly white and blood pooling under him. He barely realized Vivi was there, crying out weakly for Lewis. Vivi tore off her scarf and tied it in a tourniquet around the mangled end of Arthur’s arm, pleading with him to stay awake, stay with her. Mystery crept as close as he dared, willing Arthur strength.

 

With a strength he’d never known she had, Vivi hauled Arthur to his feet and back toward the entrance. Delirious and barely managing to keep to his feet, Arthur stumbled beside her, muttering incoherently about Lewis and monsters and sharp teeth. It killed Mystery to hear.

 

Vivi maneuvered Arthur into the front seat of the van, lying limp across the bench seat, and clambered into the driver's seat, grasping Arthur’s only hand and pulling his head into her lap. “Mystery! Now!”

 

 _Forgive me for this, Lewis._ With one last exercise of power, Mystery danced a spell that brought a boulder tumbling down to block the cave entrance. He dared not let the spirit free; bound as it was into flesh, it _would_ come looking for its freedom.

 

He leapt into the van, leaving part of his family entombed in the dark cavern, and hoping he could save what he had left. He’d lain beside Arthur, resting his head on the mechanic’s heaving chest and praying he survived long enough to make it to medical care.

 

That had been the last time he’d touched Arthur. When Arthur had woken after a week of feverish delirium and drug-induced sleep, he had remembered very little of what happened, his memory of the possession spotty and unreliable. He’d lost so much blood, and been traumatized and in shock, the doctors said. It was possible the memories were still there, but with the lack of oxygen caused by blood loss, they said, he was lucky to have survived without significant brain damage.

 

But one memory was clear, that of Mystery as a monster, ripping his arm off. He hadn’t remembered begging Mystery to stop him before he hurt Vivi. His recurrent nightmares were jumbled things, full of malevolent laughter, sharp ripping teeth, blood and pain and Lewis endlessly falling. When he realized Vivi couldn’t remember Lewis at all, despite his terror of him, he’d begged Mystery to tell him that his nightmares were just that, that Lewis was still alive.

 

Anguished, Mystery had shaken his head. Arthur broke down into hysterical sobs, forcing the nurses to sedate him for his own safety. Bloodless and thin-lipped when he’d woken after that, he’d asked Vivi for his laptop. “Even if you don’t remember him, we’re going to find him.” His eyes were red and wet. “Even if it’s only his spirit, we’ll find Lewis.”

 

Mystery was shaken out of the fugue of bitter memories by the sound of the van’s engine. Dammit, Arthur was home early!

 

Anxiously, Mystery transformed quickly so Arthur wouldn’t have to see him as the monster of his night terrors. He lay still in the grass, watching the van pull around the graveled drive and park by the mansion. Arthur opened the door and dropped to the ground, gravel crunching under his shoes, a plastic bag dangling from his metal hand. He glanced back toward the building once but then scanned the yard. Mystery started, ears coming up as Arthur headed deliberately toward him.

 

“H-hey, Mystery.” Arthur’s voice was hesitant. He stopped several feet from where Mystery lay, closing the fingers of his real hand around the elbow of his prosthetic. “Heard Vivi banished you...”

 

Mystery wanted to growl but kept it in his throat. Arthur was too jumpy around him anyway. “Indeed. I am forbidden inside until I apologize. Which I currently have no intention of doing, not to Lewis and most certainly _not_ to Vivi.”

 

Arthur dropped into an easy crouch where he stood, hands dangling loosely between his knees. “What’d she do?”

 

Mystery pinned his ears back, huffing and lowering his head onto his paws. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

Arthur smiled weakly and reached into the bag, rummaging around. “It shouldn’t surprise you to know I got the whole story already from Lew— Lewis,” he corrected himself. Since they had been reunited, Arthur had stopped using nicknames that had been part of their friendship since the beginning. Vivi was no longer “Viv” or “Vi,” Arthur always addressing her as Vivi. He’d tried addressing her by her full name for a while but she had quickly put a kibosh on that, so it was Vivi; always Vivi, never any of the more affectionate ones. Lewis was simply that; “Lewis.” No more “Lew” or “bud” or even “Big guy.” It hurt Mystery to hear Arthur distancing himself like that, but there was little he could do, when he could barely get near Arthur without him panicking.

 

Movement in his peripheral vision drew his eyes and his attention snapped to the fuzzy yellow and blue ball in Arthur’s hand. “Couldn’t find the red and yellow ones so settled for this,” Arthur snorted softly, rolling it in his fingers.

 

A whine built in Mystery’s throat and his tail wagged without his willing it to. _Arthur— Arthur had—_

 

 _“Fetch!”_ came the long unused call, and Mystery’s legs sprang into motion while his mind was still trying to catch up, sailing over the grass after the flying ball. A leap and twist of his body and he was back on the ground, the fuzzy texture of the tennis ball familiar in his mouth, and lighting a fierce joy in his chest.

 

His flying paws carried him at a run back toward Arthur. Arthur, who had shot back to his feet and was clutching his metal arm and backing up fast with a panicked look in his eyes. Mystery’s brain finally caught up and he screeched to a halt several feet away from Arthur, claws digging into the soil to halt his momentum.

 

Arthur looked terrified, breath rasping between clenched teeth, appearing to be a breath away from bolting for the safety of the van. His eyes were fastened on the ball in Mystery’s mouth. No, _not the ball_ , Mystery realized slowly, but the teeth holding it, the same teeth that had savagely torn his arm. Whining, Mystery dropped the ball, tail tucked between his legs, and lowered his head in shame.

 

Arthur did not move for several seconds, his changeable amber eyes wide and frightened. At last he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the force of it and ventured a tentative step forward. Shaking slightly, he edged another step towards Mystery, his metal hand reaching for the ball, though his gaze never left Mystery’s face.

 

Mystery lifted his head, ears pricking forward and something warm filling what had been an empty place deep inside. As frightened as he was, Arthur was trying— trying _so hard_ to overcome his fear and reconnect with him. With a yip, Mystery nudged the ball across the grass toward Arthur and dropped his forequarters to the ground in a clear invitation to play, tail up and wagging frantically.

 

Arthur’s tensed shoulders loosened and he actually laughed weakly, the first laughter Mystery had heard out of him since the night Lewis had lured them into the mansion. Arthur scooped up the ball and threw it again.

 

Mystery was off after it like a shot, running fleetly over the grass. He might not have the speed and grace of his true form, but it felt wonderful to just run, for the joy of it this time. He had missed this the most, the ability to forget for a little while, to enjoy the simple things. Arthur, before the cave, had always treated him like a friend, neither put off by his intelligence or bothered when he played dumb.

 

Kicking off in a leap, Mystery caught the ball in mid-flight and landed neatly, turning and running back for Arthur. He stopped several feet from the blond again, dropping the ball in the grass and rolling it toward Arthur with a shove of his nose. He bounced on his paws, yipping excitedly. Joy bubbled in his chest when Arthur picked up the ball again.

 

It wasn’t perfect, but it felt like the beginning of a healing. It was still fragile and could be easily damaged, but the bond was mending.

 

They played the strange game of no-touch fetch until the sky began to darken. Mystery was tired and panting, covered in grass and dirt, but happier than he had been in a long time. Arthur was actually laughing, his weak chuckling blossoming into full laughter. Mystery slumped to the ground, pinning his new ball between his forepaws and looked up at Arthur. “Thank you.”

 

Arthur dropped into the easy crouch that came naturally to him. “For what? I probably just got us both in some serious trouble with Vivi. Wasn’t she supposed to be punishing you?”

 

Mystery snorted, resting his chin on his tennis ball. Let Vivi try taking this one away... “She has no reason to get you in trouble, save for undermining her so-called punishment.”

 

Arthur chuckled. “She’ll try anyway. It doesn’t matter, though. Still, Lewis said you were really upset with her over it. I don’t get it. Why all the fuss over an old tennis ball? I mean, I get that you had to put it in the “Fine” jar, but you can always get a new tennis ball. Hell, Vivi will probably forget about it in a week and get you one if you ask.”

 

Mystery canted his ears back, whining low in his throat. “It’s not about the tennis ball, Arthur, it’s about what it means. It has... sentimental value to me. Vivi... knows that now, so it seemed a fitting punishment, I suppose, for both my use of forbidden words and my flare of temper at Lewis.”

 

Arthur huffed softly. “What did he do anyway? He’s been on his best behavior since Vivi gave him what-for... a-after he... y’know...” Arthur's voice trailed off and he gripped the wrist of his prosthetic in what was rapidly becoming a nervous habit.

 

“Attempted vehicular homicide by way of a possessed truck?” Mystery snarked. “I remember... I _was_ there, after all.”

 

Arthur flinched a little. “He was angry—”

 

“And if you say anything along the lines of _‘and he had reason or cause to be,’_ I will be justifiably furious with you.” Mystery neatly cut off Arthur before he could head back down that road of self-blame. Since the encounter with Shiromori and the subsequent revealing of the truth, Arthur’s long-held tendency to blame himself for everything had only gotten stronger.

 

Arthur ducked his head. “Sorry...”

 

Mystery whined softly. “Arthur, I am about join Vivi in banning another word from your vocabulary. You do not have to apologize for existing or for anything else that is not your fault.”

 

Arthur sucked in a breath and held it for a long moment before letting it out in a quiet sigh. “I know.”

 

“You do not or I would not have to threaten to ban it. No matter how much blame you heap on your own shoulders, there are things that are not your fault.” Mystery tilted his head and glared down his snout at Arthur reproachfully.

 

Arthur shuddered, shoulders drawing in, making himself as small as he could.

 

Mystery ached to curl around him, to offer the comfort he had before. “Arthur...” His voice dropped to a whine. “Arthur, please... I will not hurt you again— ever.”

 

Arthur’s voice hitched and his shoulders tensed. “I-I’m trying, Mystery. I know it’s not logical, b-but what my brain knows and w-what it fears are two different things and logic has nothing to do with it. Pho-phobias know no logic.”

 

No they didn’t, and Arthur had every right to fear him. Mystery sighed and lowered his head to his paws.

 

They sat there as the sky faded from burnt umber to violet and blue and the first stars of early evening began to make their appearance, both afraid, but not of the same things.

 

Arthur’s voice barely broke the silence, a faint whisper on the cooling air. “You know, I— I asked Lewis if he could do the s-same thing for me that he did to Vivi... I want to stop being afraid, of you, of him— of every damned thing!” His voice scaled up before fading back into silence.

 

“That was death Magick,” Mystery flattened his ears. Hearing Arthur’s pain, hearing his desire to be wiped clean... _oh, how it hurt_. “The last desperate wish of a dying soul. And to remove your fears would...”

 

“He told me,” Arthur whispered, his voice hitching. “He says he couldn’t replicate it, even if he wanted to.”

 

“Arthur...” Mystery forced himself to lift his head and meet Arthur’s shadowed eyes. “I can live with you fearing me, even if it hurts both of us, because to erase your fears like that— It would eradicate too much of you. You would no longer be Arthur, only a pale imitation. And to erase fear... you would lose so much more. Fear keeps us alive, and it makes moments of happiness, of joy, that much more vivid by contrast. Those that lose the fear of death, often take stupid risks; make stupid mistakes... because they do not fear the reaper.” He bore down on Arthur with his gaze. “We already almost lost you once— do not ask us to bear that again.”

 

Arthur sagged tiredly. “I can’t. I promised I wouldn’t.”

 

The kitchen door, through which Mystery had been unceremoniously booted some hours earlier, opened to spill a pool of warm light across the lawn.

 

“Artie,” Vivi called, silhouetted against the light. “Come inside for dinner before you catch your death. It’s getting colder.”

 

Arthur huffed a soft laugh, barely there, but real nonetheless. “Don’t worry about me, Vivi.”

 

She stepped forward to grab his wrist and haul him back to his feet. “I will anyway. You can’t make me stop.” Impishly, she stuck her tongue out.

 

Mystery whined inquisitively. Vivi rarely held a grudge, but it was always best to test the waters.

 

Still holding onto Arthur’s wrist, she glanced down at him. “You can come in for dinner, but believe you me, we _are_ talking about your behavior.”

 

Mystery flattened his ears, but nodded. There was no escaping her when she was on a mission, and her current goal was to restore as much as she could of what they had been before the cave. She couldn’t bring Lewis back from the dead, or give Arthur his arm back, but she’d be damned if she let them hide things that could come back to hurt them. It was part of what he loved about her.

 

He picked up his new ball and trotted after her and Arthur. She glanced down at the ball in his mouth and pouted at Arthur. “You do realize I was punishing him by taking away his ball, right?”

 

Arthur scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah, well...” he offered noncommittally.

 

Vivi stepped into the warm light spilling from the door and paused, turning back to Arthur. Mystery thought she might say more on the matter of the ball, but instead she pulled Arthur in for a brief, fierce hug. “Thank you,” she breathed into his ear. “I know how hard that was.”

 

Arthur stiffened. “Uh—?”

 

When she pulled away, Mystery could see her eyes were red and wet. She dropped an affectionate kiss on Arthur’s cheek and released him, giving him a gentle push through the door.

 

Mystery instinctively tilted his head when Vivi’s attention turned to him. A fresh tear worked it’s way down her cheek and she dropped her hand on his head. “I’m still mad about earlier, but I can forgive anything because you made him laugh again!” She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much.”

 

Huffing softly, Mystery curled his head around her in the only version of a hug he could manage in this form. He let the ball drop from his mouth so he could speak clearly. “Thank Arthur. He’s the one who reached out. He’s still terrified of me, but he’s making an effort.”

 

Vivi hiccuped softly and rubbed her teary face against his fur. “He is... he really is.”

 

It was a small step toward healing, but it was a step nonetheless.


End file.
